


Lipstick Stained

by aurelie_saintjuste



Category: Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, I Still Have No Idea What A Plot Is So Here Is More Literal Porn From My Google Drive Of Sin, Oral Sex, Sexual Intercourse, kanera - Freeform, post mission sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25887331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurelie_saintjuste/pseuds/aurelie_saintjuste
Summary: Low necklines and high hems have a way of producing all sorts of helpful results from sentients across the galaxy.Kanan Jarrus is no exception.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Lipstick Stained

Hera isn’t sure if her pulse is thrumming with the satisfaction of a mission successfully completed, the heavy-handed pour of the two drinks she consumed at the cantina while she waited for her contact, _or_ the fact that Kanan had finally come around on running a job with her. 

She squeezes the data cube curled in her palm. They’re making their way back to the spaceport where the _Ghost_ is berthed and undergoing some minor repairs under Chopper’s supervision. Hera leads the way and Kanan trailing a few paces behind her, she can feel his gaze heavy on her as she marches forward. She hums with satisfaction - she’s not one to imbibe enough to compromise her focus or her awareness, _especially_ not on a mission, but the taste of the sweet, fruity liquor is still dancing on her tongue and she can feel it warm her nerves. For the sake of blending into the sea of patrons at the bar, she nursed one drink, making it last as long as she could. When her contact was late, she ordered a second, not looking for any excuse to be ousted for taking a seat from a paying customer.

Kanan kept his eyes on her from across the room the entire time.

She was wholly prepared to respect his wishes of not wanting to get involved with her commitments to Fulcrum. Meeting contacts and spying on targets weren’t part of the job description he had agreed to, and up until tonight, he’d made himself completely scarce when Hera had a job to do. She respected that. He had set the boundary, she had agreed to it, and that was fine with her. But there was something delightful about the thrill of having a partner on the job.

Especially a handsome one who couldn’t stop staring at her.

A warmth spreads through her, and she’s sure it’s not the deceptively strong drinks from the bar.

Hera slows her stride and looks over her shoulder. She reaches a hand out to him with a smile, encouraging him to meet her pace. The spaceport is in sight, and Hera is eager to free her feet from the confines of her completely impractical heels. 

“C’mon brave bodyguard,” Hera teases, but twines her fingers in his. His hand is warm, and she gives it an affectionate squeeze before pulling him further down the street, “Almost home.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile, but he doesn’t say anything. Hera searches his face carefully and raises an eyebrow. He’s been quiet the whole evening, which she attributed to his focus on the job, but now the job is done and…

“Hey? Are you okay?” 

He stops walking and tugs her to his chest by their linked hand. With the added height of her heels, Hera’s face is just a little closer to his and when he envelopes her in his arms, she feels the warmth of his mouth close to her earcone.

“Do you know how many people couldn’t take their eyes off of you in that cantina?” 

His voice is low and gravelly and is a prelude to something Hera has become quite fond of in recent history. 

“That’s bad for business in the spy game,” Hera huffs, and she’s joking but feels a thrill burn through her at his sudden possessiveness, “Is that why you’re so quiet? Kanan Jarrus, are you _jealous_?”   
  
“Hard to be jealous when I’m the one taking you home,” he says with a low laugh, “No. I was quiet because I’ve been distracted all night thinking about getting you out of that dress.”

It would have been a pickup line that Hera would have rolled her eyes at a few months ago. But a thought dawns on Hera as Kanan presses a kiss below her earcone, near the hinge of her jaw - the physical aspects of their relationship are still so new, and outside of the handful of times she’s shared his bunk, Kanan has barely seen her in anything less than her full flight suit, and certainly nothing as provocative as the low-cut black dress she’s wearing now, and her features highlighted with a subtle touch of makeup. Hera has had to rely on some of the less savory stereotypes of her Twi’lek culture on recon missions, and while she isn’t always proud of it, she’s managed to get all sorts of information out of sentients across the Outer Rim with a low neckline and a high hem.

But Kanan has never seen _that_ from her before - the closest he’s come was on Gorse, when he himself was the target of her seduction and lost his Moonglow pass from around his neck to her as a result.

Hera’s shaken from her realization by Kanan’s fingers trailing down the column of her neck, ghosting across the exposed swell of her breasts. 

“Back to the ship,” she whispers, her voice edged with a new urgency. She wants to be annoyed by the ever-blurring line between their professional and fledgling personal relationship, but right now she’s trying to decide how far into the _Ghost_ they’ll make it before her dress is a heap on the durasteel floor.

She doesn’t have to wonder for long. Hera is sure that if she let Kanan carry her, he would have. But the distance isn’t great, and the urgency carries them all the faster. Hera has never been so grateful to see her freighter, nor has she ever been so thankful to hear the hissing of the ramp closing behind them. 

Hera slips her fingers into one of the loops of Kanan’s belt to pull him close. The target of their first mission of the night is still curled possessively in her hand, and she can feel him shudder as she trails her index finger along the front of the waistband of his pants. 

“I’m trusting you with this,” she tells him, and slips the data cube deep into his pocket as not to get lost in what she knows is coming next. It’ll be safe there.

He swallows hard and nods.

_Onto her second mission._

Hera’s hands cradle his face gently, angling him down just slightly to press her mouth to his. Kanan’s palms rest lightly at her hips, pulling her body flush with his as a satisfied groan rumbles in his chest. Hera smiles mischievously against his parted lips.

“Tell me what you were thinking at that cantina,” she murmurs, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue. 

“Are you going to get angry at me for not focusing on the mission?” he asks, his fingers curling tighter into her hips. 

“It wasn’t _your_ mission,” she reminds him, catching the lip she’s just traced between her teeth as one hand slides behind his head to pull the tie loose from his hair and carding her slender fingers through the freed strands. 

“I… ah,” he starts, but his thought is interrupted by Hera’s lips trailing along his jaw. Her mouth stops for just a moment and she laughs, realizing that she’s dragging a trail of her burgundy lipstick across his brown skin. “What’s so funny?”  
  


“Nothing. Go on,” and her mouth does the same, pressing searing kiss after kiss along his jaw and under his chin. 

“I was thinking,” he starts again, and one hand drops from his face to slither up under the front of his shirt, scraping her nails at the skin of his stomach and chest, her tongue dipping along his throat. “I was… thinking… that I was envious of every other person who… who got to see you in this dress before I did... _kriff…_ Hera…”

“Go on,” she purrs in encouragement, “what else?”

He sucks in a steadying breath as Hera presses the length of his body against the wall of the cargo hold. 

“I was… I was thinking…” He tilts his head back against the wall, baring his throat to Hera and splaying one large hand between her exposed shoulder blades. The burgundy lipstick marks she leaves in her wake bloom like bruises across his skin. “That you were the most incredible person in that room… the most beautiful… everyone was staring at you… and… ah… how… how much I wanted to fuck you on that bar.”

Hera’s grins, and brings his face to meet hers, pressing her mouth against his, her tongue delving into his mouth. The taste of him is dizzying - warm and sweet and uniquely Kanan. She frees her hand from under his shirt and traces the noticeable line of his erection through his pants with one finger. 

“Will cargo crates do?” 

He barks a laugh and presses his forehead against hers, “ _So_ unprofessional, Captain.”

“If you’re complaining…?” 

“ _Never_ ,” and to emphasize his commitment, he lifts the hem of his shirt, freeing it over his head and tossing it aside. Hera will never, ever tire of the hard lines of his torso, the broad expanse of his chest dusted with dark hair, the swell of his biceps and the strength of his forearms. There are times when Hera looks at him, clothed or otherwise, and could yell at how unfairly attractive he is, but the knowledge that he is somehow now hers keeps her grounded. 

“Your turn,” Kanan says, his voice low as he eyes the low neckline of her dress hungrily.

“You didn’t think about stripping this dress off me?” Hera offers, her voice rich with sweet intent. She brings her mouth close to his ear, trails her pink tongue around the shell before purring, “You didn’t think about _that_ at all?”

She knows him too well.

With a little laugh, he flattens his palms across the tops of her shoulders and slides the thin straps down her arms. Kanan dips his head to press kisses in the wake of his palm’s path, the ends of his hair tickling at her skin. The neckline dips lower as he pulls the straps down her arms, her breasts freed to the cool recycled air of the cargo hold. The dress bunches at her waist, where Kanan’s hands lift to cup the weight of her breasts, his thumbs stroking softly at her stiffening nipples.

“Oh, Hera,” he says in a tone rich with reverence that reminds Hera of the way people used to pray to the Goddess on Ryloth. He presses his face into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his eyes closed in concentration. It’s a beautiful moment filled with sensation that Hera feels to her absolute nerve endings and she punctuates it with a press of her lips at the crown of his head. 

After a moment and with a soft kiss to her throat, Kanan’s ministrations travel lower. Hera shivers with anticipation when his mouth ghosts over her nipple, the scratch of his goatee against her sensitive skin sharp contrast to the soft pad of his thumb’s circling. She arches just slightly into him when his mouth closes over her breast, a soft cry tumbling from her parted lips when he suckles gently at her. 

“K-Kanan,” she sighs, rolling her hips against his. His free hand holds her body to his between her shoulder blades, and she arches more deeply into his mouth.

His teeth nip lightly at her nipple before turning his attention to its twin. The cool air hits her freshly exposed skin and a shudder rips through her at the heightened sensation. Kanan’s teeth and tongue don’t relent, even as his hand slides under the hem of her dress, stroking at her gently through the microfiber of her basics. She desperately wants to be freed from the last of her clothes and uses the fingers twisted in his hair to gently pull him away from her chest. 

Kanan’s gaze locks on hers, his smile carrying to his darkened eyes. She drops the weave of his hair between her fingers and pulls his mouth to hers in another burning kiss. She’s grateful to see that he’s working at freeing the buckle of his belt and opening the placket of his pants. He sighs audibly with relief when he palms his freed erection, not once breaking his mouth away from hers. 

Begrudgingly, it's Hera that pulls away from the heat of his mouth, but with best intentions in mind. She pushes the dress down over her hips and tosses it to the side with Kanan’s shirt. Hera turns her attention back to his broad chest, raking her fingers down its center, her nails scratching into his skin just hard enough to leave faint white tracks as her hands journey towards the dip of his hip bones, where the dark trail of hair leads to his thick erection.

Kanan hisses when her hand closes around him, stroking him firmly through the ring of her fingers. She lets his hand take over for hers around his cock as she sinks to her knees between his strong legs, shucking his pants down two his ankles. She helps him free from his boots and taps each foot in direction to step out of the legs of his pants. Only then does she push his hand away and resume the measured cadence of pleasure that she’s learned he loves. 

Hera sits on her knees, watching the features of his face slacken as her fist pumps his cock. She squeezes her thighs as a surge of pleasure tears through her, her body reacting to the intimacy and carnality of the scene. Her rhythm falters as her hand slides between his legs to cup him gently and her tongue laps a broad swipe at the underside of his cock. Kanan cries out at the surprise of her mouth, and Hera can’t help but laugh at his startled yelp.

“Sorry love,” Hera hums in a half-hearted apology. She doesn’t wait for a reply or give him a moment to ground himself before taking the swollen head of his cock in her wet mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip of him over and over. 

“ _Hera_ ,” Kanan grinds out, and his hand moves to the back of her head, careful to work around her lekku. The contact prickles at her skull and down her spine, and she hums with him in her mouth. 

She lifts her eyes to meet his hooded gaze, staring down at her with his lower lip caught between his perfect white teeth. Hera’s sinks deeper down his shaft, her fist still at the base of his cock gently working in time with her mouth. A swipe of her lipstick paints the flat underside of him, marking him, leaving behind evidence that Hera has been there, she has claimed him. She can feel he’s starting to come undone, but she’s nowhere near through with him. She slides off his cock with a wet pop, and licks her lower lip, staring back up at him.

Kanan sucks in a steadying breath and she leans into the touch of the back of his hand at her cheek. His other hand, in a featherlight touch, palms her lek at its root and gently slides down its length to the tapered tip. Her eyes flutter closed when he does it again, his thumb stroking at her cheekbone. 

“I think I’d like to fuck you on those crates now,” His voice is low and cuts right through her. Hera huffs out a laugh and turns her head just enough to kiss his palm.

“Who says romance is dead?” She quips, but the thought sends a thrill through her that manifests itself in another little shiver. She pushes herself to her feet. Hera can see the traces of her lipstick on him across his face and jaw, down his neck, stomach and cock. She bites back a laugh, but feels a point of pride at staking her claim across his body, and is eager for the opportunity for him to do the same.

Before she can be led across the hold, Kanan hooks his thumbs in the waistband of her basics. “You can keep the heels,” he promises, “But these have to go.” 

Hera rolls her eyes, but shimmies out of the solid black underwear, which Kanan unceremoniously tosses aside. He smiles with satisfaction at the fully exposed swaths of her green skin and skims his fingers up her sides, his eyes alight with what Hera recognizes as a plan. He takes her hand and pulls her towards the crates, but stops her when she tries to sit. 

“Uh-uh,” he says, spinning her gently and pulling her back against his chest. One of his hands splays at her flat stomach, the fingers of the other dip lower and Hera tosses her head back against his shoulder with a sigh when they tentatively sink into the folds of her sex. 

“Hands on the crate,” he directs, withdrawing his hand. Hera wants to be furious at him for teasing with such a quick exploration of her, but she knows Kanan better than that - he has a specific plan, and she is more than willing to put her trust in him. Hera obliges, her back to him, her hands on the crate. He keeps one hand splayed at her stomach, and presses gently between her shoulders to bend her parallel to the ground. 

_Oh_.

Hera knows immediately that the extra height from her heels offers him the perfect vantage to take her from behind and the excitement thrums in her veins. She can’t see him, but she can practically feel him appraising her in this position. She presses her forearms into the crate and rests her forehead against them. An arch of her back positions her ass just a little higher, and Kanan gently taps her ankle with his foot, cueing her to step her legs apart a little further. His fingers slide down the graceful column of her spine in approval, and Hera has to remind herself to breathe oxygen into her lungs when his fingers slide down the cleft of her ass and tease at her slick entrance. 

“You’re magnificent,” he says, and Hera squirms with anticipation. He sinks two fingers into her and she cries out and bucks back against his hand, the sensation feels new in this position, more exposed and more sensitive. His fingers curl inside her, searching for the nerve endings that will bring her the most pleasure, the closest to release. He finds them expertly, and Hera squeezes her eyes shut against her arms, willing her hips to stay still, to let him do the work. 

“Don’t come for me yet, Hera,” he warns, and curls his fingers again. “Not yet.” 

“Kanan, please,” and she’s surprised how desperate her whine sounds.

“Please what, Hera?” 

“ _Please_ ,” she presses her hips back against his hand again when words fail her, and looks over her shoulder. Kanan’s hooded gaze is dark and he looks as though he’s enjoying the sight of her as much as she’s enjoying the feel of him. “I thought you … you wanted to fuck me.” 

Kanan withdraws his hand and Hera mourns its loss. He wraps his slick fingers around his cock, pumping it once… twice… and lining up its head at her entrance, sliding it through the slick folds. His free hand steadies her hip, his fingers curling into her skin tightly and she wants so badly to roll back into him, to feel the sink of his cock into her. 

He tentatively rolls his hips, the tip of him sinking into her and Hera cries out, she’s desperate for him to fill her. She can’t see his face, but she can picture it in her mind’s eye, clear as day - the tight set of his jaw, his strong brows drawn together over closed eyes. He is a magnificent testament to focus and control when he fucks her, and Hera feels her heart skip a beat at the thought of it. 

Finally - and painfully slowly - he rolls his hips, sinking into her inch by inch.

He hasn’t even started thrusting yet, but the angle is so divine Hera squeezes her eyes shut against it, stars bursting behind her eyelids. The sensation is completely unlike any other position they’ve been intimate in. 

Kanan shudders out a shaky breath. “Oh, Hera,” he murmurs, his fingers tight on her hip, and splayed at the small of her back. He sinks in the last bit, fully seated in her, and stills, her muscles tight around him, her breaths coming in sharp as she adjusts to the new angle.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and she nods into her arms, leaning back against him with a hiss. He doesn’t move just yet, but the hand at the small of her back slides up her spine, and soothingly trails the length of her tense lekku. 

Experimentally, he thrusts shallowly into her. She whimpers, but moves her hips to meet his cadence as best as she can. He presses a little harder, thrusts a little deeper, and Hera meets him move for move, the sensation searing through her like blaster fire. She was close with just his fingers, but her vision is already starting to become blurry at the edges and the coil of pleasure aches her stomach, each thrust of his hips from behind pushing her closer and closer to the brink. 

Hera’s fingers curl into the unrelenting steel of the crate, her eyes squeezed shut, her back and shoulders tense as she approaches what is already gearing to be one of the strongest orgasms of her life. Her knees feel weak and she tries to relax them as much as she can, but all she can focus on, all her brain registers is the rhythm of Kanan bottoming out, hitting her in her deepest places. She arches her back against him, her release so close… she’s _so close_ … 

“Kanan,” she half-cries, half-sobs as her release wracks her body, and are those tears prickling at her eyes? “Kanankanankanankanan.” 

His fingers are bruising at her hip, and there’s a moment of terrible loss accompanied by an absolutely feral cry as Kanan pulls from her. She vaguely recognizes the warmth pooling at the small of her back as his release, and her knees tremble as she tries to stop her vision from swimming. Kanan must sense this, he drapes his body over hers, wraps one arm around her stomach and turns to sit cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the pile of crates, her body curled in his lap. 

She buries her face in his neck, and never wants to leave the circle of his arms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles in her back, completely unfazed by his own release marking her skin, the milky white stark against her flushed green skin.

They sit each other's warmth in silence for several long minutes. 

“That was better than the bar,” Kanan admits and presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

Hera makes a noise of agreement, not trusting her voice just yet. She does raise her hand to his jaw, her fingers dancing along the lipstick stains she’s left behind. 

“There’s a lot of lipstick on you,” she states more as a matter of fact than as an apology. 

Kanan snorts out a laugh, “If we weren’t both in dire need of a shower, I’d say I’ll keep it there as a reminder.” 

Hera nestles herself closer against him, his hand never stopping its circling at her back. 

“I don’t think I can get up that ladder,” she admits, eyeing the offending ladder skeptically and finally kicking off her heels. They served her well tonight, but her feet are aching and her knees still feel like jelly. 

“So we’ll stay here until we have to answer to Chopper.” 

Chopper will be furious, but her droid is the last thing on her mind in the circle of Kanan Jarrus’ arms. 

“You can explain this to him,” she yawns, the heavy weight of exhaustion sinking into her muscles. Her arms twine around his neck as she closes her eyes against his warm skin. 

“Whatever you say, Captain Hera.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely the result of another late night conversation with SpecSeven. She continues to be one of my worst enablers and co-captain of the thirst squad. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, I'm agent-aurelie on tumblr. If you didn't, I'm still agent-aurelie on tumblr. Sometimes I post little ficlets there but I absolutely run on prompts, so please don't be shy.


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